Russian Food at Cook’s World.

My grandfather is getting old. He’s 95, cute and still very funny. He still has a girlfriend. She is quite the spring chicken, 80 something years old. I have always been really close with him and I remember him sitting with my grandmother at the table making Pelmeni.
Pilmeni is a Siberian ravioli, usually filled with ground meat. My grandparents would talk about money, business or whatever came to mind while folding dumplings one a time. It was their relationship time and I watched them in a trance as they communicated while investing all their love in the process of cooking. When my grandmother got sick, she told him how to cook her recipes. She would sit in her chair and yell out the recipe to him. I am not sure if my grandfather enjoyed
taking her orders but he basked in the last precious moments they had together.

The teacher had a sweet warm smile and told us stories about her life on a farm. She let us into her world, sharing all the stories of her heritage.
We made Seledka Pod Shuboy , herring under a coat, a salad with layers of cooked vegetables such as beets, potatoes and carrots and a creamy sauce that covered the herring.
We made Okroshka a cold soup, made with vegetables, smoked sausage, eggs and a homemade soup base.
We made Yagodniy, a dessert made of homemade cottage cheese, berries and Russian rye bread.

The highlight of the class was the Pelmeni. I would take the whole class over again just to learn how to make these. As the teacher made these, memories unfolded, it was like watching a video through her eyes of the way things used to be in her household. We all joined in to fold are Pelmenis, assembly line style.
We varied in age and in culture but here we all worked together. One person rolled the dough, one person folded and one person examined the Pelmenis to make sure that each dumpling was firmly sealed and the edges were crimped so that they would not fall apart in the boiling water.
We talked about our roots and shared our personal stories of the grandmothers or mothers in our life.
I pictured my grandchildren doing the same thing. What would they say was their own? The Asian spring rolls, the Italian Pasta, the French sauces or the 30 minute meals that I whip up. Times have changed, we have access to so many cultures. We can eat foods from all over the world in one day. The choices keep us from making the same recipe again and again. Are we losing our grip on the beauty of simplicity?